


A One Night Stand with Sherlock Holmes

by Jenny_Starseed



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Missing Scene, One Night Stands, The Blind Banker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 13:46:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny_Starseed/pseuds/Jenny_Starseed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What is it like to have a one night stand with Sherlock Holmes? Ask Parker Everett, the investment banker who dared to initiate one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A One Night Stand with Sherlock Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve seen three people prompt a fic that has Sherlock sleeping with the sexy extra in The Blind Banker in the past few weeks. Something had to be written. [Random sexy extra here](http://shaddicted.tumblr.com/post/12551400580/jazzbones-goldfish945) Originally written for a Sherlock Rare Pair Fest.
> 
> Written before the airing of series 2, so no spoilers.
> 
> None of these characters are mine. Unbeta-ed and Unbrit-picked.

Parker Everett was a typical ambitious young man, working in the more risky sectors of the investment banking. His job was lucrative and stressful, but unfortunately, quite predictable. That was the nature of this job in that cultivated a culture of constant one-upmanship, empty bragging and phoniness that gave a shiny film of success to everyone who came through the doors. So it was quite jarring to find random bits of yellow graffiti sprayed across the walls and doors. Even stranger when he found an impeccably dressed man with wild curly hair dashing here and there, calculating something related to the yellow graffiti.

He asked Sebastian Wilkes’ secretary who the strange man was since it was likely Wilkes who called in the strange man to presumably investigate the graffiti. A consulting detective she said, an old classmate from uni with a strange name. Sherlock Holmes it was. Parker couldn’t help but be captivated by the sight of the man as he crouched behind desks, took pictures with his mobile phone and consulted with his dull looking partner. For once, there was something more interesting than making money in this building.

Parker later heard that Van Coon committed suicide the next day, but there were a rumour going around the office that he was murdered. Parker didn’t really know the man, except that he was sleeping with his PA, Amanda, and that they had recently broken up. Such a pity, Amanda was a smart girl, but she always had unrealistic expectations from her workaholic boyfriends who gave her expensive gifts as a consolation prize.

Later that day, he was outside smoking when he spotted the consulting detective walk out of the building without his partner.

“Do you want a smoke?” asked Parker.

Sherlock looked up, dismissed the cigarette with a wave of his hand. Parker could only smile. He knew this one would be a bit harder to get. He just needed a bit something to lure him in. Likely information, he was a consulting detective after all.

“Van Coon was an utter wanker,” Parker said casually.

That caught the detective’s attention. He tentatively turned around, “What was that?”

Parker smirked. “He was an utter wanker. He was always bragging about his new cufflinks, his new car and its stereo system. Not to mention, he was always spouting random facts about the Chinese as if he was a bloody expert on them. But we all know he knew jack shit about it all.”

Sherlock sighed. “How enlightening. Now, do you have any useful information?”

“Like what?”

Sherlock shot him a withering look. “If you have to ask, you obviously don’t have any. Useful Information. Your employer thinks he committed suicide.”

“And you don’t?”

“No, I don’t. But it’s all very circumstantial right now; I suppose I’m open to all possibilities. Did Van Coon have any reason to kill himself that you know of?”

Parker pulled out another cigarette and lit it before answering. “He broke up with his girlfriend recently. You’ve probably met her, Amanda.”

“His personal assistant.”

“Yeah, her. He was always bringing her exotic gifts from China,” said Parker. He puffed out another bit of smoke. “She never did appreciate them. You know women; she wanted something more substantial than little Asian trinkets. Just before the bastard topped himself, he gave her this jade hair stick.”

“Hair stick?”

“Yeah, one of those fancy decorative chopsticks that women sometimes put in their French twist.”

Sherlock smiled. “That’s very interesting, now that might actually be useful information. Could you happen to give me a list of the gifts Van Coon gave Amanda?”

Parker grinned. “Sure, that won’t be a problem, Mr. Holmes.” Parker held out his hand for Sherlock to shake. “The name is Parker.”

Sherlock shook it firmly. “Parker. Parker Everett I believe?”

“How did you guess that?”

“I saw your ID access card when you were pulling out your cigarette,” replied Sherlock. He quickly pulled out a notepad and scribbled something and gave it to Parker.

“What’s this?”

“My e-mail address,” replied Sherlock. “E-mail me when you have the list.”

“Why don’t I get your phone number?” asked Parker cheekily.

Sherlock could only roll his eyes at that. “Because I do not fancy a quick and dirty sexual encounter in your posh flat.”

“Could I at least buy you a drink?”

Sherlock smiled smugly. “Only if you bring me the proper information that will be useful in my investigations, I don’t accept drinks from every source I meet off the street.”

“Got it, Mr. Holmes.”

The detective gave him a knowing smile. “Call me Sherlock. I hope to hear from you soon.”

Parker watched Sherlock disappear into the busy crowd. The man was stunning, in an odd sort of way. Well, he had a task to finish if he ever wanted to have a drink with the arresting man.

It took Parker a lunch break and a very long after work drink to get a complete list of all of Amanda’s gifts from Van Coon. The break-up was fresh enough for Amanda that she was still bitter about it and was willing to complain about her dead ex to anyone who would listen in between bouts of crying. He promptly e-mailed Sherlock, setting up a time and a place to meet. The date was set and they were meeting at a local posh bar that many of the city boys went to drink and do business. Parker dressed impeccably, in his best silk shirt, tie and trousers. He reserved a table for the two of them and waited.

Sherlock arrived a half hour late and sat down without taking off his coat.

“Do you have the information?”

Parker smiled. “Don’t you want a drink first?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Drinks after I evaluate the information.”

Parker took a neatly folded sheet out of his jacket pocket for Sherlock. Sherlock took it wordlessly and left the bar. It was over so quickly, Parker didn’t know if he was dismissed or just forgotten after Sherlock retrieved what he wanted.

He didn’t expect to see Sherlock again until he spotted him in the office the next day, talking to Amanda. He took the green stick from her that was holding up her hair, said something quietly to her before she shrieked “Oh my God” and left the office. Sherlock had a massive grin on, as if he played a good joke on poor Amanda. Wilkes came out of his office, asking what the commotion was about and invited Sherlock into his office.

Parker met Sherlock outside while on his smoking break. He was still with his dowdy friend. He whistled to catch Sherlock’s attention.

“So, was my information any good?”

Sherlock turned around and approached Parker while his friend stayed behind. He took Parker’s cigarette and put it out with his shoe.

“It was quite good,” said Sherlock. “Meet me at the Criterion tonight at 5 and you can buy me that drink. I really can’t stand that awful pretentious posh place you chose last time.”

Sherlock walked away from Parker with a smug face.

“Don’t I get your number?!” cried Parker.

Sherlock didn’t answer as he joined his friend again, walking towards the underground and dispersing into the crowd.

It was 5:30 until Sherlock showed up at the Criterion bar. He was dressed in a plum silk shirt and dark grey trousers, looking comfortable and handsome among the ordinary nine to five types that frequent this bar. He gave Parker an appraising look before ordering a glass of port. Parker sipped his gin, suddenly at a loss as to what to say to this intimidating man who very obviously played by his own rules.

“Let’s get to the point, shall we?” said Sherlock casually. “I have no use for small talk. Your information was very useful but I doubt you’re interested in the details of the case. It will all be in the papers tomorrow and I’m sure you’d rather hear it from your co-worker Amanda than from me. You want sex and I don’t mind having it with you. I suggest your flat and if you try anything funny, I know enough Bartitsu to incapacitate you in ten seconds flat. No strings attached, one night at your flat. How does that sound to you?”

Parker didn’t know what to say to that. He was quite speechless really.

Sherlock smirked. “You’re cute when you’re gobsmacked. Let’s finish our drinks and not waste time, shall we?”

Parker quickly finished his drink while Sherlock sipped his leisurely. Parker found that he had nothing to do with his hands and he was unable to smoke in the bar. Sherlock’s eyes racked over his body, obviously liking what he saw. But it was not the typical sort of gaze that Parker was used to, Sherlock’s was laser-like, assessing every detail about him but leaving his findings to himself. It made him uncomfortable. It was as if he was playing a game and no one had told him the rules.

It took Sherlock a bloody twenty minutes to finish his drink. They took a cab to Parker’s flat and Sherlock was his nonchalant self as Parker unlocked the door to the flat to let him in. They took off their coats and Parker asked if Sherlock wanted another drink. Sherlock said nothing and continued his laser assessment of him and his apartment. Parker had never felt so left footed and out of place in his own flat as he was desperately trying to look as cool and indifferent as Sherlock did. Was this a mistake? What on earth did this man want?

What Sherlock wanted became immediately obvious as Sherlock pounced on Parker, tackling him to his expensive 10,000 pound white sofa, giving him an aggressive kiss that left no room for doubt.

“I like it when you’re embarrassed and out of your depth,” Sherlock murmured against Parker’s mouth. “It’s arousing. Now, take off your pants and let’s do this.”

“Rr...right here?” stammered Parker. “But this sofa...”

“Is very expensive, I know,” said Sherlock with a mischievous smile. “If you don’t want to have sex here, then I suggest we move to your bedroom quickly. I am a very impatient man.”

Parker hastily got off the sofa and ran to his bedroom while Sherlock sauntered into the bedroom, not even breaking his stride. Sherlock closed the door behind him and continued his aggressive kissing. They frantically pulled each other’s clothes off, it was clumsy and fast but it felt so good once they were in Parker’s bed.

It pained Parker to have to pause to get out the condoms and lubrication from his dresser drawer.

“No need for the lubrication,” said Sherlock.

“Why not?”

“We’re not having anal sex,” said Sherlock. “At least I’m not. You’re hardly a man I trust enough for that.”

“So what do you want to do?” asked Parker dumbly.

Sherlock took a condom from Parker’s hand and rolled it onto his penis. He gave Parker a dirty kiss and murmured, “I’m sure we’ll think of something that will be mutually satisfying to us both.”

Sherlock took Parker in his hand, stroking him slowly while kissing him all over. There was much awkward fumbling (mostly on Parker’s part), but Sherlock seemed to know exactly what he wanted and Parker just let him take over. It was quite an experience to have this gorgeous man have his wicked way with him, thoroughly touching and kissing him in every which way until his body was flush with excitement and desire. It was also one of the most frantic and satisfying sexual experiences of his life, Sherlock was nothing but a man of intense efficiency, knowing exactly where to touch Parker. Before he knew it, he heard a desperate moan fall from his lips as Sherlock rutted against him mercilessly, his breath heavy and gasping against his ear. Parker frantically mauled Sherlock’s back as he came quickly, feeling Sherlock shuddering against him with desperate quiet moans.

It was over in a matter of seconds. Parker guessed that their sordid little act only lasted ten minutes between them, but what a glorious ten minutes it was. Sherlock got off him and went to the bathroom. Parker could only lie there, listening to the taps run and the padding of Sherlock’s bare feet against the expensively tiled bathroom floor. When he returned, he firmly kissed Parker on the lips before putting on his clothes.

Parker laid there in post coital bliss, lazily watching the clean lines of Sherlock’s body as he dressed to leave. Never did Parker ever meet such a cold and precise man who could take him apart with pleasure so easily, it was quite exhilarating actually. In fact, he supposed it was quite a comic sight in his bedroom, him lying there naked with a lazy stupid smile on his face while Sherlock looked completely unruffled and unflappable as he tied his shoes.

“Can we do this again?”

Sherlock turned around while he buttoned his cuffs. “I’m not adverse to the idea, as long as it’s my idea in the first place.”

“In other words, you’ll call me and arrange this on your own terms.”

“Correct.”

“You’re used to having things your way, aren’t you?” asked Parker.

“Parker, I can go for months without sex,” said Sherlock as if he was talking to a four year old. “I’m not exactly desperate for it. It would make sense that I dictate the terms of our sexual congress. That is, if you are the reputable sort of man who believes in consent.”

“No...of course,” stammered Parker. “I wouldn’t object to that.”

Sherlock straightened his shirt and quickly ran his hand in his hair. “Good. Should I show myself out?”

“No, I’ll show you out,” Parker offered hastily.

Parker quickly cleaned himself and put his trousers and shirt on, quickly following Sherlock out of the bedroom.

“Do I get your mobile number?” asked Parker.

“No, e-mail will suffice for my purposes,” said Sherlock as he put on his coat and scarf. He gave Parker a quick kiss. “Until we meet again,” whispered Sherlock.

And that was that. The door was shut and Parker was left half dressed in his posh flat, wondering if he really would meet Sherlock again. He hoped so.


End file.
